The Balance
by GreyEyesGlaringAtShonda
Summary: Inspired by the 309 promos, goes through that heartbreaking storyline…Bang of course, I wanted MerDer to drown in that bathtub…
1. Chapter 1

The Balance

By greyeyedgirl

Nov. 18, 2006

Summary: Inspired by the 309 promos, goes through that heartbreaking storyline…Bang of course, I wanted MerDer to drown in that bathtub…

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CHAPTER ONE 

I am trying to calm myself.

My skin is prickling, as if it's me that's being cut.

I used to be able to come here to think.

I can feel so many eyes on me, I sense the tension radiating. I'm an intern, I shouldn't be doing this.

It used to be that I was unaware of any of them. I was only seeing the hands, the line carefully being drawn before my world would open up for me, the hands exerting such careful force, as the energy reflected matter-of-factly off of the magic scalpel.

Now I can feel him watching me, resentful, as I try to keep him intact, try to keep his life from falling apart as much as I'm doing to the man on this table.

He's standing closer to me than he has in weeks. I can't even focus on it, I have to finish this.

My mind is fuzzing, I should have napped during lunch instead of cramming a study session. Fat lot it'll do Mr. D'Abruzzo here if I know the proper techniques, if I just end up zoning out while I'm performing them.

Zoning out? This is _surgery_, damn it!

The suture is finished. I can close. Cut, suture, close.

I have to remember that.

Cut. Suture. Close.

I need to study more. I need the definitions and the monotone of the textbooks, I need to wrap my self in them, drown in the comfort of my aptitude. I am doing everything I can and I'm still perceived as a robot, so it is pointless. I need to become that person again. This is too dangerous, it's not worth it enough to care like this.

So I need my edge back.

Cut, suture, close.

He's done. I have pulled it off perfectly, he's fine. He's going to be fine. Cristina Yang does not make mistakes in surgery.

Robots malfunction less than humans, right?

He won't tell me what he wants. He screamed it at me once, and when I gave it to him, I just get _this._ Cold, harsh stares whenever he looks at me.

Or nothing at all.

I can't keep doing this.

I have to do this. He screamed it at me, he was wrapping himself deeper and deeper into his own anger and despair. He was angry at _me,_ he got that-that _look_, like I disgusted him. He said he needed Preston Burke. He needs Preston Burke, and I have to do this.

He won't tell me exactly what he wants. I make him more unhappy than anybody else. I saw him laugh with Shepherd the day before he went camping.

I can't remember the last time he laughed like that with me.

I don't know how to give him what he needs.

I want to tell him what I want…but I can't when he looks at me like that.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Balance**

Chapter two

By greyeyedgirl

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I'm aware of her presence, but I can't seem to acknowledge her. She is trying to talk to me as she opens her locker, in some sort of worry and something about a bathtub. It reminds me, I need to take a shower, I didn't have enough time this morning or last night.

She's still going, and I feel a twinge of adrenaline when I realize I don't feel guilty for not listening, that's a good sign, I'm distancing myself, my shields are reforming.

She's supposed to be my best friend and I want her to shut up.

Now she's staring at me, waiting for an answer. I try to look polite. She asks after a moment if I am alright.

I purposely give her a fake-looking smile. She returns it instinctively; she knows the rules of this game.

Burke is the most important thing right now, I made a commitment to this and I'm not backing down. I'm doing the best I can for him, the only thing I can think of that will make him happiest. I am doing _everything_, I am doing this for him. My edge hisses and I allow my mind to clear, knowing I will have to control this. There needs to be a balance between when I let myself go on autopilot like this, and when I am with Burke. It can't take over me, it would destroy everything. I can't lose Burke, I…I just can't. It won't happen. I will control my edge. Edges are dangerous, I will make sure it does no more damage than necessary.

I made an unspoken promise the first time I held that vessel steady. I promised that I would do this. Burke _needs this._ I will keep his secret, I promised and I cannot not do this. He needs this, I will keep his secret no matter how many times I get cornered and interrogated, insulted, by O'Malley, or how much scut work Bailey throws at me because it's not okay for me to do something that prevents her from a single surgery even though the one responsible for all of this gets to come back with empty threats and unsupervised playtime with the colleagues who she knows wouldn't turn her in.

I'm so tired. I'm home 5 hours a night the nights I earn such a luxury, and I lay awake for two of them. He no longer initiates conversations, and I barely make the attempt anymore. I used to run and jump into bed at night only to be near him, now he crawls into bed after his shower and rolls over to stare at the door before closing his eyes.

I used to get exited by a getting a glance of him at work everyday. Now I watch him in pain, knowing he hates me helping him. I bury my face in research to avoid the knowledge he wants to get away from me. I have no idea what he does when I'm not around, I don't even know for sure where he goes. He has limited paperwork, I take care of most of it, and I'm the one who schedules everything. He probably sleeps, dodging into on-call rooms to avoid interactions with colleagues. We used to check the board to see when the other was in surgery, paging each other occasionally and meeting in our preferred on-call room. Now I have his schedule memorized, the marker for the surgical board is probably covered with my fingerprints. When he pages me it's to scold me, like I'm a child, for some insignificant detail I've adjusted, staring at me with those chilly gazes.

I really hate that look. I always have. I used to get it once or twice every few weeks, and now it's constant.

He's such a hypocrite. I heard lecture after lecture on how I would never let him in; and now he sulks whenever I try to engage him into conversations.

What does he want?

I can't handle this.

I can't handle that I can't handle this.

I have the weight of both of our responsibilities, both of our emotions, the entirety of our lives and devotions. Burke cannot grasp what I'm willing to do for him, so I shoulder it all. Everything he's worked for, longed for, breathed for, I prune and caress while shunting beyond the workload and expectations demanded of us. I am an intern and an attending in one. I will do it for him. I'm trying so hard.

But I can't handle it.

I feel guilty and scared for our patients, for Burke. I can't handle that. I can't handle that I have a conscience. I can't handle that my edge won't tell me which side is the sharp and which is the blunt. I can't handle that I don't know if Burke loves me or hates me anymore.

I can't handle that everything won't balance perfectly on both shoulders. I can't handle the knowledge that a slight push will topple me over.

There's a line, and I can't find it. I know Burke is tottering on it, and the thing I most can't handle is that I'm not strong enough to hold him from falling. I have a good grip on him. I just can't steady my weight against the tightrope.


End file.
